Page 70 of Just My Fake Husband

“Oh, I’m going to wear this thing so much you’re going to beg me to burn it.” Without warning, he rips his Henley off and tosses it onto the back of a chair. His torso is exactly as I imagined it would be, like the statue of David only better. Which is fitting considering we basically live in an art museum.

He slides the T-shirt over his head and I figure I better stop gawping.

I arrange my face in mock hurt. “You’d never burn my heartfelt gift!”

“Leather, River, leather.” He rubs his hands together like he’s Mr. Burns fromThe Simpsons. “Week three is leather.”

“Now I’m seriously scared,” I say, and I can’t stop the feeling of freedom in my chest as I laugh. Sometimes being married to Gabriel is actually kind of fun.

As I’m getting ready for bed, I put Lunch Lady Liz in her kennel and hear Gabriel using the pump to blow up his air mattress. Poor guy. I know this is not ideal.

I’m no sooner under the covers when Liz starts whining. “No,” I shush. After some intermittent whines, I throw on my bathrobe, and take her outside to do her business, careful to tread quietly when I see a Gabriel-shaped lump. I put her back in her kennel, but she starts whining again. I can’t put her on the bed with me, it’s not even mine. I let her out of the kennel, and she darts to the door and starts scratching again.

“Is Lunch Lady Liz having some trouble?” Gabriel asks through the door.

Crap. “Sorry. She won’t shut up.”

“I can help,” he says.

I reluctantly open the door, and she jumps up on him.

“Down, Liz!” I call.

“It’s fine,” he insists as he picks her up and holds her in his arms. “You just missed Uncle Gabriel, huh?” He hesitates. “Hey, why don’t you try to get some sleep, and I’ll keep her out here with me?”

“No, this is not your problem.”

He tries to cover the dog’s ears with his free hand. “You can’t call her a problem to her face.” He pets the back of her neck and under her chin. “I’m good. River, we’re married. We’re supposed to share stuff like this.”

I almost open my mouth to protest, to say we’re only married legally, to insist that I get my way. But his gentle dimples are so convincing that I relent and wish him and that problematic dog good night.

A few minutes after I settle in the bed again, I get a text from Gabriel.

Oh no.

Chapter 26

Gabriel

River’s got her arms crossed, like she’s about to get all lunch lady on Lunch Lady Liz.

“Liz, no!” she says, and then bends down to pat the flattened air mattress. “No.” She repeats it again, like she’s trying to teach the dog a thing or two. Liz is not going to make the connection that she had anything to do with what happened.

In case you couldn’t tell, Lunch Lady Liz popped my new air mattress.

“Don’t take it out on her,” I say. “I was the one who allowed her to jump up on it.” I don’t mind River trying to defend me, though. It’s kind of cute.

“We can’t let her think she can get away with it!” She throws her arms wide and when they come back down to slap againsther thighs, that purple bathrobe flies up a little at the edges, showing more of her shapely legs than should be legal.

“I think that’s a losing battle.” I stand and walk to her, wanting to clasp her hands in mine. But I don’t. “Don’t fret.”

“Fret? Is this a Jimmy Stewart movie? I keep getting the sense that you think this is a Jimmy Stewart movie.”

“Come on. You worry about so much.” I bring my finger up to smooth her scrunched up forehead. “You have a lot of burdens on your shoulders.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to figure out how to spin a certain someone’s reckless behavior in Europe.” She’s squeezing her cheeks together in a fake pout. Still, she can’t hold back a smile.

“See? You’re worrying about things you can’t control,” I point out.

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